


Whistle

by witchsoup



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Fluff, Protests, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchsoup/pseuds/witchsoup
Summary: Hermione spends the majority of her time on the tube, or dashing around Sainsbury's hunting for the last of the vegetarian wraps for her two-thirds-complete meal deal. Though it would be somewhat off-brand, she feels that it's well within her rights to ask David Cameron to lower the price of a meal deal, while he's at it. Possibly her rent, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Garbage, come get your hot garbage. I was thinking last night about the tuition fee protests and it occurred to me that of course, Hermione Granger would be front and centre with a witty banner. I also love stories that explore what the Harry/Draco rivalry would be like without the racism and indoctrination thrown in the mix. Somewhat inspired by the episode of Fresh Meat where they attend the protests. It's where I learned the word kettling, at least.

Her proposed chant of "What do we want? Politicians who respect the needs of their constituents and follow through on their promises! When do we want it? Now!" had not exactly caught on. 

Most of the people from her bus - namely a group of international business students headed up by the insipid Lavender Brown - have altogether abandoned the shouting and the jostling Hermione had expected. They _are_ being kettled, though from the way Lavender's twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at the nearest police officer, you wouldn't know it. 

"She's probably not even gay, you know," Hermione hisses into her ear as she reaches into Lavender's bag for a bottle of water.

The other girl's strained laugh is offset by the shove she gives Hermione, sending her once more into the throng of unwashed student bodies. In her almost four years of university life, she can't truly say she's experienced any of the wonderful things her parents always reminisce about.

To be fair, her parents went to Bristol. She's never been soothed by the beauty of Georgian architecture, nor has she ever sat in a beer garden on a hot summer's day, fresh from her final exam, surrounded by friends.

Hermione spends the majority of her time on the tube, or dashing around Sainsbury's hunting for the last of the vegetarian wraps for her two-thirds-complete meal deal. Though it would be somewhat off-brand, she feels that it's well within her rights to ask David Cameron to lower the price of a meal deal, while he's at it. Possibly her rent, too. 

London is expensive, even more so when you’re no longer under your parents roof in the nicer part of the city.

After a few attempts, involving standing on tiptoe in her scuffed old Doc Martens, which is not as easy as it sounds, she spots Harry and Ginny, sharing a family pack of ready salted crisps.

"Alright, Hermione? Bit boring, all this standing about - if this takes much longer I'll be late for practice." She turns to Harry, pulling her phone from the pocket of her jersey. "D'you think Sirius could get them to let me out? Only, the bus leaves at half five."

At the sight of Hermione's glare, Harry grins.

"I don't really think that's the point, Gin. We're supposed to be, what was it? Immovable, Impregnable-

"-important, look, I really do have to get through. I'm not even a _student!_ Look at the suit! This is from Harvey Nichols, honestly, do you really think I'm concerned about tuition fees? I voted _Tory,_ for Christ's sake!"

Harry's face clouds at the sound of a cultured, impatient voice, and turns to see the back of a blindingly blond head, not three feet away.

Ginny's eyes light up, and she grins before cupping her hands around her mouth to shout, "Oi, Malfoy!"

The man in question turns rapidly, a scowl on his face, which turns to a sneer as soon as he spots Harry. Advancing towards their little group, he shoulder checks a girl in a ripped denim jacket holding a cardboard sign. 

With a look of outrage on her face she pushes him, spitting "posh prick" as he trips over a discarded backpack.

While Harry only laughs, delighted, before grabbing Ginny's hand and abandoning Malfoy to be swallowed by the throng, Hermione rushes forward, gently elbowing her fellow protesters out of the way in a bid to help him up.

"Need a hand?" she asks, suppressing a laugh.

His eyes widen as he takes in her proffered hand, her worn gloves, as he scrambles to pick himself off the ground. Immediately, Hermione shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat, a frown forming.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here, of all people. Did you bring buttons? I'm sure you couldn't resist a chance to dust off the old badge-maker," he drawls.

"No, I didn't. Though I'm sure it would have made you a wonderful tie pin." She ducks her head, suddenly embarrassed. "They confiscated my sign."

Malfoy laughs, brushing a spot of dirt from his sleeve and lovingly placing his wrapped lunch inside his expensive-looking leather satchel.

"Go on then, what did it say?"

"SCAMERON. I thought it was snappy."

From the movement of his mouth it appears he’s biting the inside of his cheek in a bid not to laugh - surely _at_ her, not with her, and her frown deepens.

“Well, see you around I suppose,” she bites out, turning to find her friends and possibly even a stiff and illicit drink from the depths of someone’s bag. She knows for a fact Parvati Patil’s been smuggling sips since at least half past twelve.

“Granger, wait,” he calls, trailing behind her and catching her arm. “That was Potter I saw scurrying off?”

“Yes, it was, and I’m quite keen to find him so if you’ll excuse me-”

“Don’t leave me by myself, not if I’m stuck in here.”

Hermione’s eyes flash.

“Well there wouldn’t be a problem, would there, if you hadn’t almost gotten him expelled over a stupid game of football-”

“He wrecked my car! Covered it in red and gold, he’s lucky I didn’t go to the police.” Malfoy suddenly looks shifty. “Anyway, it wasn’t just about the football.”

She scoffs.

“No, don’t look like that, you know what he did to Greg-”

“-because you two _cut holes_ in my swimming costume! I was halfway to the pool before I noticed, it could have been a disaster-”

“Exactly,” he says, stiffly. “It could have. Greg didn’t deserve a black eye over it, barely anyone saw-”

“I suppose that’s alright then, if only a few people saw me practically naked.”

“Come on, Granger, that was almost six years ago.” At the look on her face he rushes out, “Look please do me one favour and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll even corroborate your story if you want to tell Potter you punched me again, just, please-”

“What is it?” she hisses impatiently.

“I left my phone in the cab this morning, I need to call the office and tell them I’m stuck here. Amycus is an absolute ball-breaker when you’re late, can I please use your phone?”

Digging in her pocket and ripping off one glove, she stabs her password into the phone - Ron’s birthday, she really needs to change that, it’s been six months - and squints up at Malfoy, looking uncharacteristically relieved.

“Some boss. Where do you work, I’ll search the number.”

Immediately, he reaches for the phone.

“No, it’s alright, I know the direct line-”

“Amycus, I feel like I know the name-”

Hermione’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ which quickly transforms to a furious glare.

“You work for Carrow, Carrow & Snape,” she spits. “Not only do they have an _utterly_ stupid name, but they also defended Tom _fucking_ Riddle and his band of low lives.”

“Granger, please, just give me the phone, I could lose my job-”

“Good!” she cries. “It’s not like you need the money, not when Daddy will give you whatever you ask for. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Your office is nowhere near Parliament - you were visiting your father.”

Locking her phone, she shoves it behind her back as he lunges for it. Without even thinking about what she’s doing - the phone is locked, there’s nothing he can do - suddenly she’s sprinting off in the direction she last saw Harry.

Sprinting is a bit of an overstatement. It’s rather crushed. They _are_ being kettled.

Sending a well-placed elbow off to her left she breaks through a small gap in the crush, running smack bang into the familiar chest of Ron Weasley.

“Hi ‘Mione,” he says affably, releasing her waist just as Malfoy catches up to her, red in the face.

“Look, you _bitch-”_

That’s when Ron punches him, and all hell breaks loose.

* * *

“I hear someone needs a lawyer,” he says smugly as he shuts the door behind him, though his collar is ripped and his suit jacket creased.

Hermione folds her arms across her chest and sinks deeper into her chair.

“You have to tell them that I wasn’t aiming for that police officer, I was trying to get away from you. It just so happens, you know, that I was planning on using my fist to accomplish it. I feel bad, honestly, but I barely clipped him.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that would help. It would only reinforce the whole _lowlife_ image you’ve got going on.”

Even compared to Malfoy, who looks more dishevelled than she’s ever seen him - including after they emerged from behind the sports building during the Sixth form Christmas party - she really does look a fright.

“Aren’t you grateful for my chosen career path, Miss Granger? You will of course be expected to pay my regular hourly fee.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I think I’m the one who should be saying that to you - after all, you’re the one blabbing about planning to assault me.”

Picking at her sleeve, she refuses to look at him.

“Now, about that fee, how does a coffee sound to start off with? You’ll be paying, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there are students who are not unwashed, but from my experience, we're generally not at our best during term time.


End file.
